


The Bond Ship Liberty

by friendlyneighborhoodfairy



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Blood and Violence, Character(s) of Color, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Freedom, M/M, Other, Period-Typical Racism, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodfairy/pseuds/friendlyneighborhoodfairy
Summary: Cana, Freed, Laxus, and Mira plan to escape from bondage and steal their master's ship. Becoming new people is scary, and involves saying goodbye to pieces of who they were--as well as making new friends. But first, some blood must be shed.





	1. The Bond Ship Liberty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [splendidlyimperfect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendidlyimperfect/gifts).
  * Inspired by [ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622345) by [splendidlyimperfect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendidlyimperfect/pseuds/splendidlyimperfect). 



> For my co-captain. ^-^ This fic is a fan's sequel. <3
> 
> Please note: _3x this fic uses period-appropriate race language that's not okay and isn't meant to be. If this is a trigger for you, be forewarned._

Cana was careful as she slipped into the bonders' quarters and silently closed the door.

"All good," she said, eyes adjusting to the light of a single, stolen candle.

The three faces around the makeshift crate table were a relief of shadows. Jane's hand found Cana's in the dark and squeezed, pulling Cana into her lap to join them.

"You got it?" Justine asked.

Cana held out two silver keys.

"Yes," Justine breathed, fervently touching one before pulling back as if he'd soil them. "You're brilliant."

"You're brilliant," she corrected. "I'm just small. Nobody cares about the negro boy because nobody thinks he can manage anything."

She glanced at Laxus, who grimaced and nodded his agreement. His head brushed the ceiling of their lowly little hold: everyone noticed him.

"You're an excellent deck boy," Jane murmured, kissing her ear. She smelled like potatoes and it made Cana's stomach growl, but they had other things to do first. Before the pair of them slipped back to Jane's quarters, also known as the kitchen floor. The kitchen was Jane's kingdom, and as long as she was in there, none of the sailors hassled her.

And as long as the sailors thought Cana was a boy, none of them hassled  _her_  either.

She was getting tired of short hair; she wanted it big again, like Jane's. Soon. Very soon.

Cana placed the keys into their bag of supplies and looked at Laxus.

"I haven't swiped any charts," he said, eyes down. "But I know where he keeps his spares. I also removed his oil lantern—the one that could start a fire if the oil spilled. It's just candlelit ones now. So he can't…you know."

"You think he'd actually do that?" Jane asked.

"If he realized we were going to succeed…yeah, he might. Just to hang us in our own folly."

Justine flinched, and Laxus put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Sorry."

" 'S okay," Justine said quickly, flicking his hair back. Its strange grey-white color caught the light, beautiful in a ghostly way—but Cana was used to holding her tongue when it came to Justine's hair. His hair, like his skin, was a reminder of his parentage, and anyone stupid enough to bring that up would get eye-murdered.

"So we have everything," Justine said, finding cool composure and taking charge. He was good at that. "We just need a window of time."

"Coming into port tomorrow," Jane said.

"That's confirmed?"

"Yes. Dicker came to get a supply list from me."

"Did he say who he's taking with him for supplies?" Justine asked.

Jane listed some names, but Cana was watching Justine's face.

"Poison two," he said. "Actually, make it three. He might make one or two sick sailors come with him, but if three are sick, it'll be easier to get him to take Laxus."

"Won't Jane get in trouble?" Cana asked. "They'll know it was the food."

"Don't use a laxative," Justine said. "Use something—that spice that gave half of them headaches! That'll work. Several of them threw up. And they never knew it was the food."

"Are we sure," Laxus spoke up, "that I should be the one to go?"

"You're the big one of us," Justine said. "You're the one who would be sent to carry supplies."

"But…to find someone. To barter. That's you, love. I'm not good at words and negotiations."

"I can't." Justine's voice cracked and they were all familiar with the sound. "How would I get off the ship? Who is going to talk to a mulatto? Who isn't going to think I'm some sort of wraith? It has to be you. I believe in you, Laxus. You can do this."

"I still think we could sail the ship ourselves," Cana grunted.

But Laxus shook his head.

"No. Even assuming we teach Jane—which we'll have to." He nodded at Jane who nodded gracefully back. Cana knew much as Jane loved doing the cooking, she was eager to get out in the fresh air more. And not have anyone touching her bottom when she did. "Even then, four isn't enough. We have to sleep at some point."

"Fine," Cana said. "But make sure they're trustworthy. Find people like us."

"Bonders?" Justine snorted.

"Maybe. Or running away. Anyone who is as desperate as we."

The words added a somber note, and they all grew quiet for a moment.

"So there need to be six of them," Laxus said eventually. "At the minimum. Right?"

"Five," Jane corrected.

They all looked at her.

"We have our stowaway." She motioned, and out of the darkness a tiny shape shifted to the edge of the candlelight.

A little slip of a child, they barely stirred the air enough for the candle to waver. They were as black as Cana and Laxus and looked positively wild. Most of the crew hadn't even found out about the child yet, which was good; Cana had her suspicions the child was a girl, impossible as that might seem, and black girls didn't thrive well on ships full of men.

They were a little dark ghost, but strong and capable despite their size, and good at being silent. Too good: the one issue was that the child hardly ever spoke.

"Come, my little breath of wind," Jane said affectionately, and the child crouched at her side, staring around at them all. "See, Justine? Five of us seeking our freedom. We need five more to have a base crew."

"Five it is," Laxus nodded.

Cana leaned back against Jane's shoulder. It had felt real for a while now, their plan coming into shape, but now she was positively tingling. It was out there, just beyond the horizon:

_A life of their own._

"There are a few last things before we break," Justine said, a rare smile softening the hard lines of his face. "First of all, we need a new captain."

"Justine," Cana said without hesitation, the word echoed by Jane.

"You, darling," Laxus agreed.

The child pointed at him too.

"No," Justine whispered harshly. "Not me."

"You're the smartest of us here. You're the reason we have this plan—"

"I don't want to be in charge." Justine's voice broke again, but this time it was worse, turning breathy. Panicking. "Last time I was responsible, people  _died._ "

Jane stilled. She'd been there whenever  _it_ happened: she and Justine were raised as bonders in the same rich house. That was all Cana knew.

"Justine—" Laxus said.

"Alright," Jane interrupted.

"What?" Cana looked around at her.

"Laxus." Jane looked up at him. "You're hardy and you know sailing. I could be in charge, but I don't know hell about anything yet. And we all know Cana isn't responsible. That leaves you."

Cana shrugged at this; it was true.

"Okay," Laxus said, sitting back with surprise etched on his face. "I'll be captain."

He looked back at his lover.

"You'll be my first mate."

"Okay," Justine said. "Alright. Yes."

"You're the only one of us who can read, after all."

He meant it as a tease, and Justine laughed wetly.

The child sat up straighter at the word  _read_. Curious little brat; Cana smiled. This child would be a good asset. And imagine growing up a freedman on a ship… They would have so many opportunities for their future.

"Second order of business," Justine said, "is names. Our names. Who we want to be."

"Cana," Cana said, smiling. "My name is already my heritage. And I'm taking a last name. Alberona, like my homeland."

They all smiled and nodded at this choice.

"Mira," Jane said softly. "What my mother wanted to name me."

"Goodbye, Jane," Cana said, kissing her forehead. "Hello, Mira."

"Oh, no, I like Jane too. I'm keeping Jane." Jane-Mira flushed. "I don't care what white woman gave it to me; it's part of who I am. I'm not really of Therin—never been there. I'm me."

"Mirajane," Cana said.

The smile that burst across the woman's face was brighter than the moon in a starless sky.

"Mirajane. I like that."

"Will you take a surname?" Laxus asked.

Mirajane thought for a moment. "Alberona. Like the one I love."

They all wore knowing looks as Mirajane kissed Cana's cheek. The child cooed.

"What about you, breath-of-wind?" Mirajane asked.

The small brow pursed in thought, then they looked up sincerely at Mirajane. "Who am I?"

Mirajane brushed a finger along the child's cheek. She was good with children—had always wanted her own. It was Cana's one regret in life that she could never give Mirajane what she wanted most.

"Wendy," Mirajane said. "Like the windy breeze that will take us far away from here."

The child's smile mirrored Mirajane's.

"Like Cana, I'm keeping my name," Laxus said. "I don't need a last name. I'll just be Captain Laxus."

"Has a good ring," Justine smiled.

"That just leaves you, my love."

He bent his brow, but Cana noted it wasn't in thought: this looked more like a man preparing his bravery.

"Freed," he said. "Freed Justine."

They all ooh-ed at this choice—he'd always been the smartest and most creative of them—but Cana asked, "You're keeping Justine?"

"I'm making it mine," he sneered. "I've never had a real first name before. Now I'm pairing a freedman's name with  _his_  surname. A freedman stealing a ship and running away. And I'll wear  _his_  name, and he can rot away in the shame of that. I'll make his name fucking infamous just to spite him. He always said it would make him vomit to hear a negro associated with him. I hope he chokes on his sick and dies."

Even Cana was blinking back emotion at that. Laxus leaned right over and kissed him, directly on the mouth. Justine— _Freed_  Justine made a startled noise and then returned the kiss, setting fire to the air.

"There we are," he said when the pair pulled apart. "We're a family now. Even you, Wendy. You're one of us. All that remains is for us to name our ship."

"I think we should deliberate on it," said their new captain. "Sleep on it and come up with a really good one."

"That sounds like a good plan," Freed agreed.

Mira and Cana rose to return to their nook, and Mira took Wendy's small hand.

"Come with us tonight," she said, giving a friendly wink.

Cana tilted her head. Ah, right. Captain Laxus and First Mate Freed probably wanted some alone time.

* * *

"We need to cast off  _now,_ " Freed ordered.

Cana had almost gotten used to thinking of him by his new name. When he shouted like that, though, she thought of him as First-Mate-Basically-Captain.

"Aye," she said, hauling on the proper ropes and jumping up to catch the spar on the main junk sail. The canvas never unfurled all the way without someone grabbing the lowest slat and pulling hard. In Cana's case, that meant jumping deckward hoping she weighed enough.

The sail caught the wind and Freed snatched it out of her hand as she hit the deck, him tying it so it stayed open while she rolled across the deck and tried not to think about how bruised her hip was going to be later.

Three of the five people Laxus had found to join their crew were aboard, and there was the ring of steel from the dock—luckily just the one ring, only one guard engaging in combat with their soon-to-be crewmate.

As Cana surveyed the three who had jumped aboard, she realized one was holding another in his arms and staring around in anxiety.

And that was the iron smell from lots of spilled blood. Strong enough to waft over the sea salt.

"Wendy, this way!" Mirajane called, running over to the men in her bare feet and grabbing the young man's arm. "This way. Our ship surgeon can patch him up. Let's get him below and out of the way."

Ship…surgeon?

Sure enough, as the group bustled past Cana, she saw Wendy running along with spools and bandaging held in her shirt, a needle glinting between her teeth. Huh. How Mirajane had figured out Wendy could do stuff with wounds…

"Cana!" Laxus called. "Grab that line."

She obliged, setting to work as the three of them on deck got the junk moving.

There was a  _thunk,_  and at the same moment, a shouted curse.

"Laxus!" Freed yelled, and Cana looked over to see their captain gripping his ankle. A bolt was embedded in the deck next to him.

"Just clipped me," Laxus panted. Wobbling, he got back up and hopped over to continue what he was doing. "Let's get out of here, fast."

"What about the other new people?" Cana asked.

"They're swimming." Freed pointed off the starboard side. "Lower the rope; they'll be alongside us shortly."

"They can't catch a moving ship!"

"We're hardly moving," Freed snorted. "We can't really catch the wind until we're out of the bay. Which reminds me…"

Cana looked at him. "Our prisoners."

He nodded.

Seeing Laxus had things under control, together they raced down to the locked hold where the ship's old crew lay stripped, drugged into sleepiness, and fettered. That was the largest part of their escape: arranging it so they could ambush the sailors one by one. Tie them each up without making a sound. Once someone got a chance to call out, it would be all over.

But thanks to Freed's smarts and Cana's speed, they'd succeeded. And the ship—as yet unnamed—was theirs.

Cana still couldn't believe that part.

The pair of them dragged their prisoners up on deck one by one, handling them roughly. Cana felt no guilt in this. Humans deserved dignity, but these were not humans. Anyone who could treat another as a tool for the sake of their own ease had lost their soul.

They deserved nothing.

"We're a kilometer out," Laxus reported from the helm. "Time to start offboarding them."

"Aye, Captain." Cana shared a grin with him.

Dragging the first to the railing, she heaved and floundered and finally got him up and—

He tumbled over with a splash before she could even think whether or not she ought to untie him.

Nah, let him swim to shore with hands and feet bound. Maybe the experience would turn him into an abolitionist.

One by one, with Freed's help, the initial crew splashed into the bay.

"I wonder if there are any rocks," Freed said conversationally as they heaved one sailor, this one lucid enough to kick, over the side. "Blood draws underwater carnivores, you know. If one hits his head, he could endanger the others."

"You have a sick mind," she chuckled.

He beamed.

At last, Cana heard the dozenth splash. Only their old captain now.

She turned around and found the deck empty.

"Laxus," she asked suspiciously. "Where's Freed?"

"Dunno," he said, in an overly casual tone.

Eyes narrowed, she circled the edge of the ship, going slow and wondering if she really wanted to find whatever she was going to find, and what it would be exactly. Near the aft, Freed's voice made her stop, a stack of crates still between them.

"See those lights? See? Remember, assfuck: nod your head—" There was a loud smack, "—or shake it. Good little rat. Those lights out there are the town we've just left. We, us, the ones you bought. Turns out we're smart enough to slip away. And human enough to want to escape. Did you know that every time you did something to me, you were doing it to a person? Did you ever think about that? Answer! Nod or shake— There you go…

"Yes, every time you did this," there was another sound of impact, and a moan of pain, "or this," a rustle, and now the moan of pain sang high-pitched and scared, "you were doing it to  _me._  Not some toy you purchased. I'm not your toy. I own myself now. And you can tell your Lord Justine that I'm coming for him. I'm going to slit his throat when he least expects me: I will be the ghost from his nightmares. He will sense me coming, and cower in fear for weeks and months and years until I finally arrive. And I won't just end his life: I'll make sure it's agonizing.

" _Agonizing,_  do you hear me? Like," Freed panted, "this."

The pained moan turned into a squeal, rough and desperate and screaming, and Cana shut her eyes, not wanting to see or imagine what Freed was doing to the man who had owned him the past six years.

"So you tell him that," Freed went on breathlessly, while the gagged screams turned to broken cries. "You give him that message from me. Oh, but you'll be a little late. A lot late, I think. That wound looks like it's bleeding pretty badly. Does it hurt?" Another squeal. "Oo, sorry. I didn't realize you could feel. What about this?" Another shriek. And another.

Holy shit.

"Wow, who knew? You're actually partially human! I had no idea," Freed commented, so casual. Cana felt ill hearing him talk like that, knowing someone had made him like that.

"Well. Alright, you son of a rat's dirty fucked-in asshole, this has been fun. Sadly, I don't have time for more. It's time for you to join your friends. Before you go, let me leave you with one parting gift. Do you remember how you liked to do that to me? 'One more for the road'…"

Cana knew the next sounds too well: fists hitting the soft tissue of a person's abdomen. The noise was well familiar to a girl who had grown up on the floor of a bar. Drunkards always swung for the stomach. Drunkards like their old captain. Who'd always had a thing for keeping Freed close to his side. And Freed with all those bruises, as if the rest of them didn't know why.

Cana didn't interrupt him. It wasn't her place. Freed needed this: this was justice.

Finally the beating stopped, nothing but pathetic, breathy begging from around a gag to show the man was still conscious.

Freed's panting was loud. The final sounds to hit her ears were quiet: rustling, something almost like steel, a wet choking, and then Freed's heavy exhale.

"I've wanted this for a long time, you son of a bitch," he said.

Cana came around the corner right as Freed was heaving a limp and lifeless body over the side. He threw something into the waves that Cana had a horrible suspicion had been a body part. When Freed wiped his hands and turned around, she saw he was covered in blood. Far too much blood for merely a beating.

His smile was sickly as he met her eyes.

Then he broke down and slid to his knees.

She slid down with him, sitting nearby without being too close. Freed's shoulders shook for long moments, sobs soft and lost and heartbreaking. She wanted to hold him, but knew better, knew she could never understand. He was letting go of something that had been his alone. She wasn't jealous. She didn't pity him. She just sat with her friend and waited for him.

It was some minutes before Freed got to his feet, wobbling. When Cana offered her shoulder, he paused, putting a hand on her arm and accepting some limited support.

There was wet blood between them where they touched, warm like their skin, but Cana didn't care. Their life was messy and bloody and bruised. This was the best day they'd ever lived, and if there was blood in it, it was the blood of victory.

"You're not hurt, right?" she asked as they made their way mid-ship.

He shook his head. "Thank you."

The wind was strong now: they were passing the last sandy leg of the peninsula into open waters and Cana inhaled. As Laxus trod over and took Freed's arm, pulling his bloody self into a hug, she disengaged and walked over to the railing.

The starlight danced off the uneven surface of the water. Beautiful.

"Where's J—Mirajane?" she asked.

"Helping sew people up," Laxus replied. "Down below. And warming up the two who swam."

Cana went down the ladder and nearly ran into her beloved in one of the doorways.

"They're regrouping," Mirajane explained as she and Wendy exited. "It was a close call for two of them: one pierced and one nearly frozen. They are, I'm fairly sure, like our captain and first mate in their proclivities. The other two men as well, and all five of them are close, so they're all a bit shaken."

"But they'll help crew the ship."

"Oh, yes. They're as happy to be off as we are."

"That's what matters," Cana said. "Clearly they're running away too. I don't even care where we go after this, as long as it's away."

"Yes."

Smiling, Mirajane pulled her in by the hips and swayed back and forth, the pair of them twirling in the narrow hallway. When Mirajane kissed her mouth—right there, in a common hallway—Cana felt alive. It rushed through her limbs like drink, rich and thick and heady, and she knew after this night, they would never be the same.

It would be scary and unknown and terrifying. But they were doing it together.

Up on deck, they joined Laxus, Freed, and Wendy, the three watching the water from where Laxus stood at the helm.

"Know what that is?" Cana said, gesturing around. "The smell of liberty."

Laxus smiled. "We made it, family."

"Liberty," Freed said, rubbing his hands together. (Cana was glad to see Laxus had helped him clean off.) "That's an excellent name for a ship, Cana."

"The bond ship Liberty?" Mirajane asked, tilting her head as she carefully spoke the words.

"I like it," Laxus said.

They looked at Wendy.

"Liberty," she said.

"Then it's agreed," their captain said, thumping a hand solemnly on the railing. "Welcome aboard Liberty. Where shall we head?"

A cough sounded down on the main deck and they looked over to see the woman of their new crewmates, wrapped in a blanket but still looking regal. Something about the sword strapped to her side spoke of familiarity with deadly force.

"We…actually have a suggestion for that," she said.

"What's your name?" Mirajane asked.

"Erza. I'm…" she winced. "Sort of the leader of those idiots down below. More like big sister, but don't tell them I said that."

Cana snickered. She liked this woman already.

"So what's your suggestion?" Laxus asked, motioning at the helm in his hands. "We happen to have no particular direction in mind and are open, if you have a persuasive argument."

"Yes, and yes," Erza said, her face loosening and inching into a smile. "You see…we appear to be in possession of a treasure map."


	2. Our Hearts As One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that night, Freed and Laxus are alone, hearing through the wall as Natsu and Gray argue about "nearly dying, you bastard." It brings up old memories.

The men next door were being noisy.

With Cana and Mira on deck for the calm night, Laxus and Freed lay curled in the dark on their shared cot. While they didn't intend to eavesdrop, they were simply enjoying the silence and the silence meant hearing every word. The ship walls were thin, and of course their room had to be right next to the loud pair.

"You could've died," the excitable one—Natsu—said yet again. "Fuck, Gray."

"So could you. So could any of us at any time. Still could. I could fall ill out of a clear blue sky—"

"Gods, don't say that."

"Well, it's true. That's life," Gray said.

There was a long pause in the tirade, several low thumps and scrapes as if the two were drawing into each other. Then Gray spoke up again.

"Maybe this affects you so intensely because you've never watched the person you love walk into quite so much danger before."

"I've seen you almost dead quite a few times," Natsu said, indignant. (Laxus was very curious what on earth they'd done to put themselves in the way of danger that often.)

"But did you…love me then?"

It was so soft it was actually—for once—hard to hear.

The silence was so telling, and in the dark, Laxus drew Freed closer to his chest, his back warm and his grey-white hair tickling Laxus's cheek.

"I've loved you for many years."

"Gray," Natsu interrupted in a sharp inhale.

"I have. And you only noticed me that way recently. I'm not upset or jealous; merely stating a point. The first time I watched you almost die after I realized I was in love with you…it hurt a lot too. So I understand why you're upset…"

More muffled sounds, like sniffs or cuddles or who knew what.

Freed shifted, turning a little so his shoulder leaned against Laxus's chest and his breath touched Laxus's face.

"Laxus?"

"Hey, love."

When Freed threaded their fingers together, Laxus squeezed his hand.

"Tell me about the day we met," Freed whispered.

Inhaling, Laxus wrapped their clasped hands around Freed's stomach so he could hold him close.

"I woke up scared," he began, Freed's thumb sliding back and forth across his knuckles. "I was changing home, master, occupation. I'd only ever worked in whaling. I was scared of messing up, what the chain of superiority would be like, how bad beatings would be, and whether there would be enough food—all the uncertainties.

"The man who bought me took me up the ramp onto the boat. Maybe a third of the crew were brown, which boded well. I was desperate to please while I got my feet under me and got a grasp on the dynamics, so I kept my head down. As soon as we were aboard, he shoved me at a hatch and told me to help the boy who was sealing the lower decks.

"There wasn't anybody else below, which was nice. Getting some freedom, some breathing room. I looked around for the 'boy.' I expected someone…like me," Laxus said, voice faltering a little. Freed was half-dark, and didn't like remembering that. "But then I saw pale hair in the dark and thought it was a white boy I was being asked to help, and I didn't like that at all, because white boys like to kick around the black men to feel bigger. But then he turned around…and he wasn't a boy at all."

Freed's soft inhale made Laxus kiss his ear.

"He was a man, my age. He  _did_  look like me, except his hair had no color, and he had many scars and was  _gorgeous._  I introduced myself…stuttering something awful."

In that moment, his heart had made an oath to know this man as much as the man would let him.

"I remember," Freed whispered. "What was the man's name?"

"He didn't have one. Gave me the name of our patron. Justine. That didn't sound right to me at all—wasn't him, that big, mean, white name. So in my head, I started calling him…"

"What?"

"I called him 'Love.' Because I thought someone that beautiful and fierce surely had people who loved him, and I was going to be one of those people."

The shape of Freed's breath held a smile, his body easing deeper into Laxus's embrace.

"I looked at you," Freed said, "and you looked lost, but you also looked determined and, most startling of all, kind. You were missing one eye and I was so enamored with you and surprised by you I just stared at your scar for a gaping minute being stupid."

"You were not."

"I was," Freed laughed gently. "I decided I was going to protect you. You looked too kind. I didn't want anyone to break you. I hadn't known anyone who was whole in so long."

Laxus swallowed and curled to press his face against Freed's shoulder. Those words were sunlight, and they were barbs. For every time Freed had gotten hurt…

"Laxus?" Freed's voice was barely a breeze.

"You don't have to protect me anymore," Laxus murmured, his speech muffled by Freed's shoulder. "He's gone."

"I will always protect you. Not just from him."

A small, choked cry, like a sob without tears, leapt out of Laxus's throat.

"Please don't die."

"Laxus." At last Freed twisted around in the bed so they were face to face. "I won't. I won't take unnecessary risks. And if you're thinking of the pair on the other side of this wall…well, that's them. We're us. I'm too smart to get hurt unless I mean to."

"I never wanted you to," Laxus said.

"I didn't either." Freed's voice hardened. "But I had no choice sometimes."

Laxus breathed deeply and evenly, and felt Freed fall into sync with him.

"Do you want me to tell that part of the story?" Laxus asked in a low voice.

"Yes. Keep going."

"Alright. We sealed the lower decks together, and my Love wasn't talkative, but I slowly started getting conversation out of him. Turned out he was quite clever. He made me laugh, which made him laugh—and that's when one of the crew found us.

"They grabbed me and pulled me up top saying I clearly wasn't working and needed to learn what that would mean. My Love followed and he was quiet while I tried, carefully, to say that I had been working. Tried apologizing, tried saying I was actually enjoying my work and that's why I laughed. We were on deck then, and faced with the captain, because I was the new one and this kind of punishment would be shown to the whole crew. They were all looking…

"I wasn't paying much attention to my new friend, more concerned with my fate at the moment. May have been slightly jealous he hadn't been chosen for a beating too, but not in a personal way; it's not like I thought you had it better. And then the captain looked at you, and something about the way you stood: head down, eying me… Even to me, you looked like someone who was obviously lying. I didn't understand.

"The captain looked at this strong, quiet man for a long time, then pushed me away from the crewman who had his hands on me, turning on you." Laxus kissed Freed's temple, long and slow. "I watched. I felt I owed it to you not to look away. After, they took you away, and I couldn't ask you why, or thank you, or try to get a grip on how everything had happened.

"That evening I found you in the slaves' quarters: you were lying on your stomach and I thought you were asleep. But you touched my arm in the darkness and asked if I could pull up your blanket, which had slipped off. I could hear in your voice that you were stiff, and it hurt me hearing that. I asked if I could get you anything, and said I didn't understand why they took you and not me, and you said…"

"I said you shouldn't be humiliated on your first day aboard."

"You told me you were used to it, too," Laxus said. "That was the first night we slept side by side. We did from then on."

"But not touching," Freed murmured.

"No. That wouldn't have been okay. Brown men can't get caught doing what white men do. But now," he rubbed Freed's stomach with his thumb, "there's nothing to stop us. We can be as close as we want, every single night, and nobody will ever try to punish us for it."

"Laxus," Freed breathed, leaning up to kiss him. "I never wanted anyone else to get hurt. I'm sorry for the times I failed. Enough people have been hurt in my stead. I probably des—"

Freed cut off at the same moment Laxus gasped in anger.

Their only fight.  _You did not deserve it—you don't deserve any bruises, let alone these. Yes, I did; I did deserve it: this is recompense._

They lay in the darkness for a long time, holding each other in the calm and the quiet—the other two had apparently gone to sleep (or some other nonverbal activities, though Laxus doubted very much they were this quiet when fucking).

Freed's body trembled on occasion, not from cold, though Laxus pulled the blanket higher anyway. His beloved had killed a man tonight.

At long last, it seemed Freed had slipped into sleep, and Laxus drew a finger down his cheek—and Freed shifted.

"I like the way  _you_  touch me," Freed said. "Your hands are always soft when you touch me. You've never made me hurt."

Laxus gave a rumble of appreciation and continued his exploration of Freed's jaw, his lips, the hollow of his throat.

"Love," he said softly, and felt Freed sigh. "You know when I say I love you, I mean it, right?"

A pregnant pause.

"Of course."

"I really do. Always. I'll stay by your side as long as you want me."

"And I you."

"Much as I love hearing you say that, I'm not sure you're believing me. I won't leave you. You're my Love."

"Laxus, p-promise…"

Freed stopped.

"Yes?"

"No, it's nothing."

"I want to hear it. Love. Freed. Please tell me. Please  _trust_  me."

At Freed's shaken breath, Laxus touched his cheek again, wiping away the solitary tear that slid against his thumb.

"Promise me you'll stay," Freed whispered. "Even if I…if I do bad. If I'm a monster—don't let me hate myself. Keep loving me. If I stop believing in myself, or in you. Promise me? You'll always be here."

"I will," Laxus said. "I vow to live our days together and to protect you as best I can, even from yourself. And if I break this vow, you may hold me accountable to death for it."

"Laxus—"

"I mean every word."

Another quiet tear met Laxus's fingers and was wiped away.

"I love you too," Freed whispered.

Still petting his cheek, Laxus tipped forward and kissed his Love, who returned it: deliberate, slow, purposeful, enjoying every move. They kept going, and Freed groaned—actually groaned; Freed, who was always scared to make a noise even when they joined, heaving and drunk on each other; when he reached the agony of the heights and anyone else would cry out their ecstasy, Freed was silent.

But not tonight. Free for the first time in their lives. Under the shadow of Laxus's promises, Freed moaned and gasped and moved against him with insistent energy.

And Laxus basked in him, followed him, trusted him, loved him.

He wanted to promise every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't help the hurt/comfort fluff. ^^

**Author's Note:**

> There may or may not be more coming. ^_^


End file.
